SCAR
by Gublyb
Summary: While teams RWBY and JNPR held the limelight, a group of down on their luck students tried to survive as best they could. A boy who lived as a scavenger, a mind lost in time, a criminal hiding her old life and a girl still trapped in her last tragedies. Follow the birth, survival and eventual downfall of team SCAR. Rated T for language, may change later.
1. Chapter 1: Sepia

Four weeks before start of New year at Beacon..

* * *

Seth Loam was not having the best of days.

It had started perfectly innocent. He was finally going to break open the wreck of the old Hunter dropship, scavenge everything he could find and finally afford a one way ticket out of the dustbowl his life had been for sixteen years. The ship had been uncovered in a recent sand dune shift, and nothing Seth threw at it had broken open the hatch. Which was why he had set out with red dust explosives. Speaking of…

Seth pushed down on the electronic detonator, and the explosives he had buried beneath the sands went off, hopefully taking down a large number of his attackers. At the very least, he had a few more minutes while they decided if he he any more surprises to hit them with. He didn't, so Seth hoped they were very cautious.

It had been long walk out to the wreck from Warren in early morning heat, and it was hard work, especially when carrying high yield explosives. It had taken him at least two hours to get out to the ship, during which he had entertained himself by counting living things on the way. He had reached one when he stopped for a break and caught his reflection in his flask, dirtied by the long road he had walked. Arse end of nowhere was the best way to describe his location, which made it all the more strange that these particular bastards had found his hidden treasure.

Seth knew he was out of tricks. Soon, he would have to pick either fight or flight, and nobody would bet on his odds of winning. Seth pulled out his breathing mask, a smooth piece of metal that covered his mouth and nose, and slid it over his head. Twisting on the valve of the air tank he carried on his back, oxygen closed from it down a tube and to his mask. Seth began to dig at the sand dune he was crouching behind to avoid the many bullets being fired his way. Honestly, it may have been a little bit obvious what he was up to. It was lucky he had gone on that long with nobody else finding the ship, or questioning why he had trekked out to the same distant location every day for the past three days. Really, he shouldn't have been supprised when the jeeps had come over the horizon and converged on his position. Crawling into the shallow hole he had burrowed, Seth let the sand fall down, completely enveloping him. Mentally, he started a countdown. He had ten minutes breatheable oxygen untill he he to start holding his breath. All that was left to do was wait.

After more than a few minutes of silence, Seth could hear the crunching footsteps of more than one person approaching. He tried to focus, pick out specifics, but all he could guess was between six and nine people, at least one of which had the loud clanking of heavy weaponry. Seth, with his meagre weapon, was no match for such a large group. With the element of surprise, however, anything was possible.

Seth curled his hand around the leather grip of his weapon. He had hunted, bartered and harvested endlessly to finally build it. It was rough. It was imperfect, prime to failure. But really, having dual clawshots was an advantage for anybody. All he had to do was wait.

As soon as he felt the vibrations of a person standing over his hiding place, Seth burst out in a flurry of sand. Having the advantage of surprise, the crook didn't even see the weapon before he'd been clubbed over the head with it, knocked down cold. Seth advanced, keeping close to the half burried ship as cover. He couldn't see any of the others, but he could feel them, the sound of their boots crunching on sand alerting him long before they came into his view.

Seth reached one of the helicopter blades and climbed up it, getting on to the worn down chrome of the roof. Keeping himself low, he could still see his attackers. Five men with assault rifles of varying kinds, and one carrying what looked like an honest to god naval cannon. In a straight battle, he had no shot of succeeding. But, just like in the sand before, if the element of supprise was worked into his plan, then even tough grunts like these scavengers could be taken out. Taking aim, Seth lined up both his clawshots onto two of the men, circling around opposite sides of the ship. If the second got too much further, doubtless he would see the unconcious body of his fellow grunt in the sand. It was time to act.

Seth pulled down on the triggers for both his clawshots, and the four pronged hooked grabbers on each snapped open and fired off on chains. The central spike embedded into one of the thugs shoulder and the claws closed down on him, and the other grunt found his left arm gripped tightly in a claw. Clicking the reverse switch, Seth held down the triggers and the powerful motors rapidly pulled in his prey. They slammed into the side of the ship and let out shouts of pain. With a jerk, Seth flipped them up over top of the craft, before pulling down, slaming them both hard into the roof of the dropship. With a snap, both claws released and retracted back into their launchers.

Every man in the area had twigged where he was. Seth barely had time to duck as the loud boom of the naval cannon going off sent a streaming ball of dust infused iron straight for his head. He was exposed on the roof, but also surrounded on the ground. His only option was to level the odds once again. Seth lept from his position towards the sand, his hands held out towards the sand. Focusing, he fired his semblance.

A wave of high frequency power shot from his hands, only visible as a distortion in the air. As he hit the sand, rather than landing hard and injure himself, the sand parted under his feet, swallowing him. The mask and connected tank kept him filled with air, as he carefully angled his hands, reading the vibrations in the ground and burrowing himself through the sand like swimming through water. Looking up, he could sense a man above him on the surface. Supprise was on his side.

Sharply angling straight up, Seth shot to the surface. Bursting from the sand, he wrapped his arms around the man's throat and let himself fall backwards, once again being swallowed by the sand, pulling the man down with him. Once he had reached a decent depth, he stopped and tightened his grip on the man's throat. Altough the poor grunt tried, the sand kept him from struggling. After about a minute, he stopped. Leaving him where he was, burried six feet under, Seth shot away, already considering his next move.

With three goons left, Seth aimed his clawshots up to where he could sense one of them was standing, and fired. The combined power of both firing as well as the semblance from him meant the claws shot out of the sand and stabbed into the man's back, gripping tightly. With a grunt, Seth yanked and pulled the man about four meteres under, then left him there. About now he knew he he this one in the bag. Nobody ever saw his semblance coming, and in this land of loose sand it was even more powerful. Self assured in his victory, Seth lazily drifted through the sand.

Two very bad things happened then.

Firstly, his tank let out a high pitched beep that was to notify him his tank was nearly out of air. The second was that a stream of bullets impacted into the sand, far too close for comfort. Seth shot through the sand, trying to get away. Unfortunately, his underground travels left a noticeable trail on the surface, and the goon on said surface trailed after him, firing high powered fire bullets that melted right through the sand. Seth had to deal with this fast, and he couldn't do it underground.

With the last of his air, he shot to the far side of the dropship and burst onto the surface. Brushing himself off, Seth grabbed out his clawshots and peeked around the corner. The assault rifle man we still firing superheated shots into the ground, while the musclehead with the cannon was searching for his missing friend in the sand. It was the perfect chance, and Seth prepped his clawshots, taking aim. Sadly, the man with the cannon chose that exact moment to turn around and see him sneaking up on his last remaining comrade. Yelling in fury, he fired his cannon at Seth before he could dodge.

The thing about portable naval cannons is that, despite firing large balls of iron that can punch straight through anyone's Aura, the shots moved slower than a conventional bullet. While that was still pretty damn fast, he had perhaps half a second to react. And with his semblance, that was all Seth needed.

Firing a wave of sonic at the ball, it veered slightly to the right and slowed down. Rather than let the kinetic energy to do waste, Seth fired his clawshot into the ball. Swinging it like an Olympic hammer thrower, grunting with effort as well as severely taxing the motors on his weapon, he flung the ball in a circular trajectory towards the other thug with the assault rifle. While the ball didn't hit him like Seth wanted, the thick chain attached to it cut through his unshielded body like it was butter. Releasing the ball, Seth began to retract his claw in while simultaneously firing his other one at the cannon. It connected on the grip, wrenching it out of the thug's hand. Both clawshots retracted and his enemy weaponless, Seth knew he had the fight finished.

The cannon man, surprisingly, didn't seem worried. He just shrugged off his leather jacket, revealing a singlet proudly emblazoned with the logo to whatever gang he belonged to. Seth briefly wondered if he wore a leather jacket just so he could dramatically take it off. After all, it was hardly comfortable wearing black leather in a desert. Suddenly, the man became bathed in an eerie green glow. Seth reacted and blasted off a shot with his clawshot, but it was battered away by some invisible field. Cannon man just laughed.

"Don't even bother trying. Nothing can break my semblance, once I've got it triggered."

The man spoke in a dull growl, the one killers used. Devoid of all emotion. Seth backed away cautiously, keeping ample space between himself and his now aparently invulnerable assailant. The man drew out a small tube, which quickly expanded into being a full sized spear. All of a sudden, the fight was back on.

"You should've just run. You could have walked away with your life, but now, you have to pay"

Seth flicked the switch button on his clawshots, the motors tightened, and the closed claws pushed forward slightly. He now had a rough mele weapon. Holding them as the instructor had taught, blade sticking out between his third and fourth fingers, large handle supported back on his wrist. If he knew one thing about semblance, it was that they had a limit. He couldn't burrow through the ground all day without collapsing from exhaustion, and this man couldn't keep the sheild up forever. All Seth had to do was give him enough of a battering. Cannon man gave hisbspear a fancy twirl.

"For what it's worth; this isn't personal"

Then cannon man lept forward, the spear in his hand aimed for Seth's throat. He brought both his blades up to block, crossing them over and bringing them up under the stabbing spear, knocking it over his shoulder. The attacker decided to make do and instead bodily slammed into Seth, knocking him backwards and bareley giving him enough him time to dodge the follow up slash, hoping to disembowl him.

And so the fight continued on, the two fighters putting everything they had into it. More than once Seth was hit, his Aura flashing to reflect the otherwise mortal strike, but the glow was dimmer every hit he took. Cannon man, however, seemed just as self assured as he he been at the start, not really trying to dodge but simply laughing as every stabbing strike bounced off him, the clawshots unable to find grip and the normally lethal chains slid off him. Seth was tiring. The attacker was not.

Finally, cannon man seemed to grow bored with the fight. The only shake up had come when Seth had tried to make the sand swallow him, but even that had been avoidied, his shield giving cannon man enough friction to climb away. With a grunt, Cannon man swung his weapon at Seth. He didn't have time to dodge. The spear body smashed into his head with incredible force, knocking him down into the ground. Cannon man laughed, and stabbed down hard at seth's chest. It deflected off his aura, so he stabbed again at his head, once again to no effect. Signing, the man picked up his cannon from where it he been abandoned in the sand. Checking it was loaded, he pointed it at Seth's vulnerable, disoriented form and fired.

Really, Seth thought. It was as if he he learned nothing.

Seth, in the final moment he had left, knew what he had to do. His weapon couldn't break the shield, but he knew something that would. Firing his semblance in all dirrections, the sand split apart beneath Seth and swallowed him out of harm's way. Fighting the urge to panic, he held his breath and flew deeper into the ground. He would have to time this, carefully. Watching above, he saw the man turn to try find his trail. As soon as his back we turned, Seth shot upwards, bursting from behind and wrapping his arms and legs around cannon mans torso. Or try to, because they stopped about half and inch from his skin. Still, with the sudden weight cannon man fell backwards. Seth took a deep breath, and then let the sand take him down.

He didn't hold back, flying deeper and deeper. Past the hard sand, crunching through the sandstone, through a patch of soil and finally shattering through solid rock. Tiny shards stabbed into him, and sand was all around him, but he held his breath and held onto cannon man, who was twisting and kicking trying to get Seth off him. Finally, Seth stopped. The debris that he had drilled through came crashing into them, a mix of soil and rock and sand. Cannon man was yelling, trying to move but finding himslef unable to. Seth released him, and flicked over top and began to vibrate his way up the same tunnel he had carved. His lungs were bursting for air, but he held on and exploded from the sand, flopping over sideways ontk the ground in exhaustion. For a few minutes he lay there, basking in the afternoon (Was it afternoon? He couldn't tell) sun. He was battered an bruised, had more than a few cuts and was surrounded by either dead or unconcious bodies. And, despite all the effort, he still hadn't gotten the prize.

Sitting up, he noticed the naval cannon lying in the ground. His invincible attacker must have dropped it when he was grabbed. Picking it up, Seth admired the worksmanship it. Flowing patterns had been carved into the metal, depicting waves and ships and great beasts. He must have gotten attacked by one of the many marine gangs that roamed the coast. God knows why they had been all the way out here. Idly, Seth checked the gun over. It still had one cannonball left in it.

And Seth knew just what to do with it…

* * *

Having figured out basic firing mechanics, Seth pushed the cannon right up against the hatch of the dropship. He could try the sliding doors on the side of the ship chassis, but they would be reinforced and he only had one shot. The hatch would be his best bet. Ensuring everything was lined up, he grinned and yanked on the heavy trigger.

The kickback as enough to throw Seth back off the side of the crashed ship and onto the sand. Immediately sitting up, he saw the hatch had been blown right off it's hinges. Whooping for joy, Seth clambered up and back up to the hatch. Surely, after all this time, it would finally be worth it. Peering in, he saw that surprisingly the interior lights were still on. And the consoles were still active. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact it was crashed in a desert on its side, Seth might have assued this craft was still being liv-

"It's about time. We put out the distress call four days ago"

Seth spun in stock and accidentaly smashed his head in the top of the hatch. There were people in here? Blinking away the pain, he saw with shock that there was a man in jeans and a T shirt standing in the corner of the ship, holding themselves steady on the table so he didn't slide down the askew ship he was on.

"Wait. He's no hunter" A voice whispered from behind him.

Turning again, he noticed a pale woman who was curled up in the corner, her long grey cloak blending in perfectly with the grey chrome interior of the ship.

"Who… are you hunters? What the hell are you doing in h-here?"

The woman stood up, and Seth definitely noticed the wickedly curved scimitar strapped to her belt.

"We are, indeed, hunters. As to your second question, we have been awaiting extraction ever since our ship crashed into the desert. We were expecting other hunters. Who are you?"

Seth gupled nervously, noting that the same Hunter was eyeing him up, as if analysing him.

"I'm Seth. I found your ship about three days ago. I, uh, I thought there might be something worth scavenging in here"

The womman nodded.

"Either way, we thank you for you assistance. But I must insist you leave now. I was expecting the men who shot us down to arive yesterday, and they certinly wouldn't stop at killing a child if he got in the way"

Well. At less he he better idea of how the men had known where to find the ship. They had shot it down.

"Uh, right. About that. Can you seriously not hear anything in here?"

The man snorted.

"The thing is soundproofed better than a prostitutes bedroom. You could have the Atlas marching band outside and we wouldn't be able to tell"

Seth stepped out of the ship and indicated for them to follow. Looking out over the carnage, Seth had to smile at his work. Three men knocked unconcious, one bisected with a chain, another baddie six few under and another about to become a living fossil. He had handled it well. He heard the man let out a dull whistle.

"Damn kid. That's certinly something"

The woman shrugged.

"I thought they would send more after us, to be honest"

The male hunter laughed.

"Guess we weren't that high on the importance rating. Still, good job on what you did here. I might want to review the fight on the ships external cameras"

"Speaking of the ship, Scott, it seems to be quite burried"

The man, apparently called Scott, nodded.

"Lools like it, Onyx. Let me fix that."

Seth gasped in amazement as the man simply held out his hands and the giant ship was lifted from the gound, sand cascading off it like water. As if by magic, the craft rotated upright and gentley hovered. With a grunt, Scott manipulated the ship back down, set up the correct way. He gave a mock bow, then chuckled at Seth's shocked expression. Onyx rolled her eyes and flung open the now exposed door.

"Quit showing off. Get in"

Scott shrugged and turned to Seth.

"So, kid. Judging from the sights out here, I'm willing to bet you're not just any scavenger. But all the same, I reckon you probably want something for your trouble. So, you want a lift back, at least? I'm sure we could probably spare some Lien too"

Seth glanced around at the desert wasteland around him, and then back at Scott. The Hunter was wearing fairly casual clothing, with navy jeans and a plain white T shirt. However, as Seth looked closer, he could just make out the contour of body armour underneath, and there was some kind of hard plating under the jeans. He had no visible weapon, but Seth was willing to bet it was inside the plain duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder. Scott was trying to look as neutral as possible. If you ran into him in the street, you wouldn't think he was a Hunter. All the same, Seth could tell the man was a strong fighter by the way he held himself, a confident slouch that knew it could take on anything that came his way.

"Well, I dunno. Don't think I'll be welcome in the town anymore, not after being caught up in this buissnes"

Scott shrugged.

"Alright, then. Got any family, relatives, anywhere else?"

The best Seth knew was of a distant aunt who sometimes had visited when he was younger, and smelled of cheap alcohol.

"There's nobody else. This ship was going to buy me a ticket outta' this dump"

"… Where were you going to go?"

Seth had spent many late night's thinking about it, searching through books and asking travelers for advice, and had come to a decision long ago.

"Vale. I'd go to Vale"

"It's not all it's cracked up to be. Not a lot of oppertunites for a Mistral wastelander with no education or skills"

Onyx came back out of the ship and turned to Scott.

"But there are oppertunites for brilliant fighters, are there not?"

She held up her scroll, which was playing low quality footage of Seth's fight with the Marine gang. Scott watched silently, and the footage eventually ended.

"He could go for the fighters scholarship. Get a student visa"

"No, Onyx. He wouldn't survive at beacon"

"You managed. If that's possible, anything is"

Scott grumbled under his breath.

"… fine"

He turned back to Seth.

"Look, here's a deal: We take you back to Vale in our ship. We can put in a word for you, get you a shot at the Fighter's scholarship for Beacon. If you make it, you get a student visa to stay in Vale"

"What's the catch?"

"Well, you would have to attend beacon. And if you were to fail, it's deportation back to here, no questions, no second chances"

He started to walk back to the ship.

"We also have to leave right now. No going back for your stuff"

Seth nodded. There wasn't anything left for him here anyway. Onyx nodded back to him.

"From what I've seen, you stand a very good chance of being able pass. Come, it is a long flight, and we must get started"

Seth stepped into the ship, and after a few minutes it lifted off into a newer life.

* * *

After two days of flying, along with two stops for refueling, having long since left the sand of Mistral behind, Seth was cruising over the green of Vale fields. Grass that he knew of had always been brown , in lumpy tussocks. A wide open feild of vibrant emerald green was a new sight, as was the river that twisted its way through the field. Water had been a scared resource at the outpost he had survived in for most of his life, while here in Vale it literally flowed through the ground.

"Seth! We'll be at the city in six minutes. Try to be at least a little presentable"

Seth nodded back to Scott. Presentable. Back in the desert, functionality had taken priority over any kind of stylistic effect. Here in Beacon, wandering around in a mix of patches and rags apparently wouldn't do, especially when he had to convince some official to let him into the country. He shrugged off his long, ragged duster that had kept him hidden in the sand for many years. Underneath, he was wearing a sepia long sleeve shirt, which he hoped would be 'presentable' enough. There was nothing to be done for his trousers, however, which the sand had worn down to a dull grey from their actual black, and had a multitude of rips, tears and stitches. He took his clawshots out from where he usualy stored them in the inside pockets of his duster and slipped them into two of the larger compartments in his pants.

After a few more minutes the ship had come over a large city, with spires that reached higher than any in Mistral had. Skyscrapers, Seth remembered. He had through the travellr had just had too much to drink, but they were real. The ship swooped between them, defending towards a large flat building with many lending pads, some of which were filled. A crackle over the radio told Onyx to land on pad 14, which she did with little difficulty. As the rotors stopped spinning, Scott stood from where he had been sitting at the central table.

"Right. Proffesor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon, is going to meet us just out here. Stay quiet until I introduce you, and then… I don't know, make your best case to him"

Sure enough, just out of the window was a man in a green suit with circular glasses and a cup of something he was sipping occasionally. The rotors finally stopped spinning, and Scott swung the door open, stepping out into the landing pad.

The first thing that hit him was the sound. Cars, trains, pedestrians, other ships. It was a far cry from the gentle him of activity that Warren had been. As Seth walked out onto the pad, it overwhelmed him slightly, and he missed the first few sentences of conversation. Onyx gave him a nudge and he snappd back to reality.

"And I presume this is the young kan you described in your report?"

Scott nodded.

"Yes. Took out an entire gang of Mariners, and has a particularly effective semblance. Onyx decided he could try for the Fighter's Scholarship"

Ozpin turned his eyes onto Seth, and he felt once again like he was being analysed. Hopefully the professor didn't judge on just outward appearance.

"Seth Loam, correct? I have reviewed the footage from your fight, and there is no doubt you would be a valuable addition to the school. But I must ask- what is your reason for becoming a hunter, a life constantly frought with danger and hardship?"

Onyx and Scott had breifed him on the 'correct' answer to the question. But under the penetrating glare of Ozpin, Seth felt almost compelled to answer honestly

"I want to have a better life. Anything's better than being back at the warren"

Behind him, he saw Onyx hang her head and sigh, while Scott simply facepalmed. Palin nodded.

"Not every hunter has a purely altruistic motive. It still gives you motivation to fight, although I hope you will develop other reasons for being a hunter other than a warm meal and roof over your head"

He nodded to Onyx and Scott.

"Present your findings in a report, please. And take care of Mr Loam here for a few days. The Fighter's Scholarship is on the 17th. Good day".

The man nodded to the hunters and the walked away, disappearing into one of the many doors that led off the roof. Scott let out a sigh of relief.

"That went well enough, I guess"

He turned to Seth.

"I've got an apartment here in Vale. You're welcome to stay for as long as you need to"

Seth nodded. Onyx began to walk towards the same door Ozpin had gone through.

"Well, at least he wasn't put off too much by your appearance. If you are to attend, you are going to need some more clothes"

She looked him over.

"I'm thinking a shower wouldn't go amiss either"

"Yeah, and add to that a haircut! Looks like a damn wasps nest"

"My hair is fine"

"For the desert, mabye. Glynda would be on you in seconds if you walked in with that!"

"As if you can talk. I do recall the week you spent in detention for dying your hair blue"

"Good times…"

As he walked alongside Onyx and Scott, Seth Loam realised this was the start of a brand new day. He had no doubt in his kind that he could manage the fighter's scholarship. Reading and Writing, well, he knew some basics. How hard could it be?

Today was a good day…


	2. Chapter 2: Copper

Year and a half before start of the new year at Beacon…

* * *

Fire…

Smoke…

Screams…

What… what's happening?

This is confusing.

Too much light. I can feel the heat of it.

No, that's not light, it's called fire.

Why is everyone yelling?

Where am I?

What am I holding?

It's a spear. No, a Javelin. I think. Like those things athletes throw.

Am I an athlete? I don't think I am.

Wait… who am I?

I can just about remember it. It's right there, right on the tip of my tongue!

It's… It's…

COOPER!

Yes, I knew that. That's my name. Why did it take me so long to remember?

Oh look, I'm sitting down. I didn't realise that until now. Maybe I should start to look around.

What am I sitting on? Black, lines on it, ROAD, that's right, a road. Where are the cars?

Oh, there's one. But it's burning. Is that what's on fire? Yes, it is. Not just that one as well. The whole road is full of burning cars! Some of them are flipped, some in more than one piece. Strange, I'm fairly sure they don't do that.

"GRWRRR!"

Is that a person? No, people don't make that noise. That noise…

It's from a Grimm. I'm supposed to kill these.

The Grimm sees me. It's coming in closer. Looks very threatening, actually. What should I do?

I could use my Javelin. It is one of my weapons.

One of? How did I know that?

Look, just over there, a few feet away. A long, narrow canvas bag. It's got seven other javelins in it. How did I know that too?

Okay, I have the bag. Certainly feels heavy. How am I supposed to carry this?

Well, this feels natural. Bag hung on my lower back lengthways. This all feels very… familiar.

OH SHIT THE GRIMM IS COMING-

The Javelin just flew out my hand. Wait no, I threw it. Perfect hit between the eyes, too. The wolf like Grimm falls and dissolves to nothing. I have definitely done this before, but I can't remember when.

I can't remember how I got here.

I can't remember where here is.

I can't remember my last name.

My head hurts.

"Hey kid, you look a bit lost. Need a hand?"

Where did that come from? Oh, behind me.

There's a man. He has a weird mask over his face, which actually looks a bit like the Grimm. Long black cloak, and I can see a huge claymore on his back. He's holding his hand out to me.

That's right, shaking hands. People do that in greeting.

"Hey, it's okay. Want some help? I can get you away from here. Follow me"

Well, he seems nice. This place does seem dangerous, so it can't hurt to get a bit of help-

NO.

NO.

NO.

NOT HIM. STAY AWAY FROM HIM.

RUN.

RUN FAR, FAR AWAY.

What... What?

No. I have to get away from him. I don't know who he is, I don't know what he wants, but every fibre in my body is screaming to flee. So I do.

I run.

* * *

"Can we have a report, please?"

Qrow looked over to Glynda and nodded.

"At around midnight, a huge group of Grimm rushed onto Highway eighteen"

He pulled up drone footage of the road, showing Grimm of all types smashing into it, sending cars screeching into each other and running down those that tried to flee. Glynda winced at the sight. Some heads were going to roll for this one if she had anything to say about it.

"How did this happen? We're supposed to have a ten mile margin around each road. How did they get through?"

Qrow closed the current footage and brought up a new shot, this one from a low quality camera at one of their border outposts. Several men and women in masks rushed from the shadows and burst inside. Inside, the two scouts were caught completely off guard, cut down ruthlessly by the intruders. The attackers had then used the swipe card from one of them to access the computer, and then the automated defences for the outpost was shut down. Not long after, Grimm began to rush past the outpost. Qrow pulled up other shots from other outposts along highway eighteen suffering identical assaults.

"White Fang…" Glynda cursed.

Qrow nodded.

"The White Fang took out all our guard posts, then herded the Grimm straight to the road"

Glynda sighed.

"Casualties?"

"Upwards of two hundred. Far more wounded"

Glynda nodded. It was bad, but quick response from surrounding hunters had led to the situation being cleaned up quickly. At least there were survivors.

"And the White Fang? Do we have any leads?"

Qrow took a swig from his flask. He shook his head.

"Vanished as soon as the hunters began to show up. Damn cowards" he spat.

Glynda had to agree, but decided to stay calm. She was aware of Qrow's personal involvement in this- a busload of Signal students had been hit, and from what she understood seven promising young students had been killed. Two directly to members of the White Fang. One was missing, assumed kidnapped. Doubtless, it was the only reason he was even here at all. Glynda decided not to bring it up.

"How far are we from getting eighteen operational again?"

Qrow switched to a live feed from a news report.

"Ideally? Three weeks to get the road cleared of wrecks, re-establish our guard posts and reinforce to the Grimm they need to stay off out property. In reality? Probably more like four weeks, and it'll be far longer before the public will ever travel on that stretch"

Glynda nodded. The White Fang wanted this, wanted to try show them up in from of the public. Make the people doubt the Hunters. Stir up discord, fear. Try and create panic. Surely they had to see that these kinds of attacks only made people hate Faunus more? What purpose did they accomplish, aside from some kind of petty revenge? Either way, some work would have to be done to repair public relations.

"Set up a few humanitarian efforts in the outer villages. All the requests we've had piling up over the last few months, lets grant them. Organise some hunters to head out to the far villages"

Qrow snorted.

"I'm not your secretary, Glynda. I'm currently on a mission, actually"

"Then why are you here?

She already knew the answer.

"One of the students, Cooper Harris, is missing. I don't think the white fang took him, otherwise we would have got a ransom by now. He's still out there, and I need to find him"

"Have you considered he went with them willingly? He was a Faunus after all"

Before Qrow could reject the idea, his scroll rang. Holding up a hand to Glynda, he pulled it out and answered.

"Hello?"

"This is Scott. I'm at the site now with Onyx"

"What's happened?"

"We found a kid. Calls himself Cooper, but he can't seem to remember a thing about himself. Not last name, no address, nothing. Carrying a Hunter weapon though, so I thought he might be one of yours"

"Yeah, he is. Could you put him on?"

There was a brief silence before Qrow heard Cooper.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cooper. It's me, Qrow. Good to see you're okay, you had us all worried there for a bit"

"I'm sorry, but… who are you?"

Qrow was silent for a few seconds.

"Qrow? Mr. Branwen? It's me, your teacher at Signal."

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. Is signal some kind of school?"

Qrow was silent, and he heard Cooper sigh.

"I can't remember anything. I can't remember my name, or who you are, or even what country I'm in"

This was bad. Qrow had seen this sort of thing before: Memory Loss after a serious accident. Cooper had probably hit his head, and while he retained basic function and memories about objects, his last name and some other critical things had been lost. The kid would need potentially years of treatment to regain memories.

"Okay. Cooper, I need you to stay calm. Come back to signal with Scott and Onyx, we can sort something out here."

"It's fine, Mr. Branwen, I'm very calm. I'll see you soon"

Qrow hung up. He looked over to Glynda.

"That was the kid. Almost total loss of all memories. Sounds like a completely different person"

"Well then let's hope he can recover. Now, Qrow, are you able to assist?"

Qrow shrugged. He might as well while he waited for Cooper to get back.

* * *

Cooper was not okay when they got back. As Qrow watched him walk down the halls of signal, he could tell the kid was seeing it all for the first time. A few students said hi to him, he gave a mute wave back. They were strangers to him. He walked completely different too, not the casual stride he used to have. Harsh long steps as he efficiently moved down the corridor. Qrow walked up to him.

"Cooper. Hi"

Cooper nodded to him.

"Mr Branwen. Is this the school I went to?"

"Yeah. You recognise anything?"

"No. Some of the people here seem to know me, but I don't know them"

It was as Qrow had thought. Memory loss. It was time to see just how much he remembered.

"Well, come into my office. I'm sure you have lots of questions"

Cooper asked many questions, ranging from his last name to what country he lived in to who his parents were. Cooper felt strange, his body unnatural. It felt too small, to awkward. Even his last name, Harris, felt alien, not his own. By far the strangest part, though, was the grey tail that came out of his tail bone.

"Qrow, why do I have a tail? I noted only a few of the students outside had them"

"There are two races in Remnant: Humans, like me, and Faunus, like you. Faunus are basically humans imbued with the traits of an animal. For you, it was a wolf. Your mother was also a wolf Faunus, so you inherited the traits"

That explained it. It also explained why his hair was the rough, tangled grey that it was. Now that he though about it, he could smell the people out in the corridor, and his teeth seemed very, very sharp. Somehow, he felt a strange sense of pride for being a Faunus.

"That was who attacked last night, wasn't it? Faunus terrorists"

Qrow nodded.

"You say you saw one of them. Did he say anything that could give us a clue where they went?"

Cooper shook his head.

"He just asked me to come with him. It seemed... strange, so I ran instead."

Cooper decided not to mention the strange mental block that had stopped him from going. That would seem too strange. Even he didn't understand why it happened, or what it was.

"White Fang are dangerous people, Cooper. You made a good choice"

And somehow, he knew he had.

* * *

Trying to return to his parents had proven difficult. His father, a strong military man, had turned away from the sullen stranger who had taken the place of his son. His mother took it worse.

"Cooper, can you just try to remember? It's too difficult to have to remind you how to do the most basic of things!"

He felt like yelling at her, telling her that he wanted to remember more than anything. But it wasn't like flipping a switch. He had never seen the oven before in his life, of course he needed to be told! Small incidents led to raised tensions between them. Cooper felt just as irritated as them, having to rely on his parents like he way a baby again, and they felt anger at the strange child who wouldn't even call them mum or dad. In the end, it cumulated into one final argument.

"Cooper, dinner is ready. Come down please"

His 'mother' again. Cooper had no desire to sit through another awkward dinner where he was scolded for breaking table manners he didn't even know existed.

"No. I'm busy reading right now"

"Cooper! Come down right now please"

He had ignored his mother. It was the best way to deal with her.

"Tim! Tim, your son is ignoring my requests! Go talk to him"

Cooper had heard the stomping of his father's feet up the stairs, and then the door to his room had burst open. Sighing, he put down the book and prepared for a lecture.

"And what, do tell, is so important that you have to be so ungrateful as to refuse the food your mother cooked for you?"

Cooper held up the book he was reading. 'A history of the Faunus struggle'. Reading it had felt like the most familiar thing, and it had become a source of great comfort to him.

"Reading? That can wait. Come down for dinner"

"No. These are things I need to know"

"If you're going to skip dinner reading, at least take something more likely to spark memories. Old textbooks, a diary, anything! Not that"

In reality, he had already read all of his old notes, journal entries and even old class textbooks. He had felt nothing apart from mild annoyance at how dirty and messy his old writing was. 'History of the Faunus struggle' was the only book he owned that felt familiar, but even that had failed to bring back any actual memories.

"What's the point? I'm never going to remember anything anyway"

His father grunted in annoyance.

"Son, don't say things like that. You will remember. It will just take time, as the doctors said"

"Forget that. You and I both know. It's been three damn months! If I haven't remembered anything by now, I'm never going to. Might as well accept it now."

"Son, I will not have you speaking that way in this house. Your Mother and I have faith that…"

Cooper was sick of the charade. He didn't know them, and they should stop pretending to know him.

"Stop calling me your son! I'm not your son, and you're not my parents! Stop expecting me to pretend otherwise!"

"Memories don't change the fact we're your parents"

"Yes they do! I look at my own last name, and it feels unnatural! I look at the two of you and feel nothing! Things are NOT the same any more, but you keep pretending they are. Worse, you expect me to do the same, to act like the kid you remember. I'm sick of it!"

"Enough of this, Cooper. Come downstairs to dinner, now"

"No!"

A look of fury passed of his father's face. He roughly grabbed Cooper and tried to pull him out of the room. Suddenly, however, he found his arm twisted uncomfortably behind his back and Cooper's arm around his neck.

"Cooper Harris would have listened. Cooper Harris would be intimidated"

He let go of the man who called himself father.

"I'm not him, and never will be"

His father left. He heard raised murmurs downstairs. Cooper knew this was likely the end of his time at his parents house.

The next morning, he had come down to eat breakfast. Silently, his father came and set opposite him.

"Me and your mother discussed things last night. We have decided that if you might need a different environment. I have… friends in the System. We can get you a different home. Just temporary, understand"

His mother cut in.

"It would be good for both of us. Give you some space to remember, give us some rest"

Cooper knew he should have felt angry his own parents were sending him away, but he didn't. There people were strangers as well, and living with them had just been a cold reminder of everything he had lost.

* * *

Overall, the homes he were sent to were good enough. They were people who had cared for any number of troubled teens, and were actually grateful for a boy who simply did what he was required to do and just wanted to be left alone. With them, they had nobody else to judge him to, and life was much easier. However each home was only ever temporary, and after his first few changes he stopped trying to get to know any of his guardians too well. After his third home, he realised his biological parents probably weren't going to retrieve him. So, in the next change of homes, he also requested to change his name. Cooper Harris was the name of a boy who had close friends, loved his parents and barely passed exams at signal. Cooper Null was his name, the name of a person who had lost everything but couldn't care less about it.

* * *

He had continued to attend signal as a hunter in training. His apparent old friends had tried to pick up where they left off, but apparently he was a different person to who he used to be. After awhile, they just avoided him, which suited him just fine. Cooper spent most of his time in the library catching up on all the information about the world that he had forgotten. None of his memories were stirred by any of it, but he felt it was interesting to know anyway. What time he didn't spend learning was spent training, which was where he was now.

The Javelin left his hand a blur, and went straight into the head of the dummy. He followed it up by drawing a Javelin in each hand and throwing both simultaneously into separate targets. One hit firmly into the head, while the other sunk into the neck. Good shots. Three targets in four seconds- He was on point. Recovering his spears, he placed them back into the long canvas bag that lay horizontally on his lower back. Accuracy had never been a problem for him, instincts and muscle memory making up for the fact he couldn't even remember basic battle technique. Unfortunately he had completely forgotten how to use the special functions of his javelins, and it had taken many months of studying his blueprints and practising in the gym before he had learned them again. Even today, though, they were still the point he needed the most training in. Walking over to the Gym computer, he summoned six targets and set them to move randomly around the training room floor. Cooper also pulled up several obstacles to serve as blockages for his throws. Walking back to the centre of the room, his started the timer on his watch.

Pulling out two javelins in one hand, swung his arm and both of the white tipped javelins shot towards their targets. They went just over the top of the fast moving targets, as he had aimed them. When they were about to move right past their targets, he closed his thumb and pinkie finger onto switches on his control glove. The control glove was more like a gauntlet, which had a variety of switches and buttons on it that could be triggered by closing and opening certain fingers. An ice dust shell exploded from the back of each javelin, ensnaring three targets inside of a newly created iceberg, and then one of the Javelins continuing forward and skewering another target. Fully encased in in ice, they were bound to each other, unable to move.

Following up fast, Cooper pulled out a red tipped spear from his bag, and hurled it with all his might at the iceberg. Without missing a beat, he used his other hand to grab the other red tipped spear and send it into the other side of the large hunk of ice. With a flick of a switch, fire shells exploded out the front of the spears, shattering the ice into shrapnel. The sudden freeze and thaw shattered the three targets, and then some of the larger chunks of ice flew outwards and sunk into the vitals of another target. The ice spears fell to the ground, while the fire spears flew backwards from the explosion and Cooper jumped up and grabbed them, swiftly replacing them into the bag.

Not letting up, he did a quick turn and spotted the final target disappearing around a wall. Making a spilt second decision, he withdrew the blue tipped spear and sent it screaming into the ground to the far other side of the wall that the target would be moving towards. Triggering it from his glove, the end of the spear not in the ground fired, and a high voltage shock charge erupted from it, sending streaks of electricity scraping everything in the area for several seconds. The target was hit by the majority as it had come into view, and stopped moving, blackened by the shock. All targets down. Eighteen seconds on the moving targets exercise. Not his best, but definitely not bad either. It was just a pity he wasn't allowed to practice on the Grimm held captive for training purposes yet. He had to have a recognized teacher present for that.

Quickly recovering his ice spears from where they lay on the ground, he slotted them back into his bag, and jammed their rear into the ice shot re-loader at the far and of the bag. Pumping them once each, the mechanism loaded a shot in to replace the one expended. Jogging over to where his shock spear was driven into the floor, he yanked it out and did the same for it. His spears could hold three shots each, but is was best to keep them fully loaded where he could. Cooper Harris had been indecisive about what to call his weapons, giving them a range of names from Temporal Pikes to Wretched Spears. He, however, had settled on s name rather quickly. The Vulcan Bolts. Pulling the drawstring on his carrying bag, he decided training was over for the day.

* * *

"Well Mr. Null, I have to say you have come far since the day we first met.

He was at the acceptance interview for Beacon. Every student had one with a trained hunter, or in his case huntress, to evaluate their suitability for the prestigious school. It was apparently a very nerve racking experience, often compared to an integration. Cooper supposed he was lucky that his interviewer was somebody he knew.

"Yes, Onyx. I suppose I am a bit less lost now"

"Miss Reye in this interview, please"

"Of course"

The huntress across the table from him was wearing her trademark grey cloak, although the hood was at least down this time, letting him notice she if fact had heterochromia. One eye was blue, another green. Very rare. Shuffling her notes, she pulled out the list of questions she was required to ask.

"Why do you wish to attend beacon, Mr Null?"

The questions asked apparently never differed from year to year, and he had found a copy on-line. He had practised his answer.

"I wish to defend the people, to ensure the events that happened to me happen to nobody else"

She nodded, but looked unconvinced. He would have to make it a bit more convincing.

"And do you think you can work well in a team environment? It says here you handed in all of your assignments at signal alone, despite having opportunities to work with others on many of them"

He had been expecting that question also.

"While it is true I have worked alone in the past, I do enjoy working with others and look forward to working with four others in the future"

Onyx nodded again.

"Very well. And what are your academic goals for beacon?"

"Hopefully to graduate with honours and become a hunter, although I would settle for simply passing"

Onyx sighed and put down the list of questions.

"Mr. Null, I think there is no point to this interview if you simply give the answers you think I want to hear. This is supposed to discover your compatibility with Beacon's environment, if you give answers not your own you may find Beacon is not a good fit for you and the next four years could be very uncomfortable"

She looked at him dead on with her mismatched eyes.

"Now, how about we start over. Why do you wish to attend Beacon?"

"… I don't know"

"I'm sorry?"

"I have no idea. Cooper Harris wanted to be a Hunter to help people. I guess I'm just following in his footsteps. Too late to turn back now and all"

"That's a better answer. Now seriously, do you think you will be able to work with other people?"

"I can if I wish. Other people just found it off-putting that I didn't act like the friend they remembered, and I had no desire to try pretend to be that friend"

Onyx nodded. Now she was getting somewhere.

"And what are your academic goals in beacon?"

"Honestly? I wish to become a hunter. In the end, people don't care about things like awards or honours, only the title. I aim to pass"

Onyx shuffled her papers.

"All right then. That's most of the questions I need answers to."

Cooper stood to leave

"Oh wait, one more thing. You left your semblance description part of the form blank. Are you unaware of it?"

Cooper was aware of it. He was very, very aware of it…

* * *

 _Seven months before…_

Cooper had been on his way home. It was getting late, and his current caregivers had enforced a curfew of 10:30. Checking his watch, he saw it was 10:18. He would have to hurry. Breaking into a jog, he moved quickly down the road. His caregivers were experienced foster parents who had cared for many children, and knew exactly how to deal with him, and had a variety of creative punishments like restricting access to books or the gym, and he didn't want to test them. He really shouldn't have gotten so caught up in the book, but it had been another one that he felt was familiar. '1001 unusual semblances'. Perhaps a bit childish to what he usually read, but some of them had been fascinating. His head still in the clouds, Cooper ran across Thompson road without looking.

The truck didn't see him, and he didn't see the truck.

The last thing he saw was the flat face of steel coming directly at him, and then it hit him full force. Shocked, the driver slammed on the brakes, but it was too late, and Cooper went flying. He hit the concrete hard, and could tell that at the very least his arm was shattered. There was blood. His. His head ached, he couldn't move. Vaguely, he was aware of yelling voices and distant sirens, but it all seemed very far away. He was probably dying. Trying to sit up, all he could see was his watch. 10:28. Sounds faded away, and his vision darkened. It was strange, but he never pictured dying like this...

NO.

NOT HERE.

I NEED TO DO MORE.

I NEED YOU TO KEEP GOING, COOPER.

There was a blur of blue, and suddenly, Cooper was standing again.

He was completely disoriented. Where was he? What had just happened? No longer on the road, there was side walk beneath his feet. Still in shock, Cooper checked his watch.

10:18.

He stood there, unable to believe what he was seeing. His jog had gone on for at least five minutes. How was it now 10:18? And there wasn't a scratch on him. His arm was fine. What… what? As Cooper stood on the footpath staring in awe at his watch, further up at Thompson Road a truck drove past and hit nobody. As impossible as it seemed, Cooper had to face it.

He had moved backwards in time. It was insane, and yet it had happened.

Testing his new-found semblance, he had found limitations. Initially, he found it impossible to move backwards of his own free will. Finally, to trigger it, he decided to replicate the conditions that had made it happen before- a life threatening event. And so, he had climbed up to the top of a bridge.

Staring down at the water far, far below, Cooper almost lost his nerve. Was the risk of death really worth learning about this? What if it didn't trigger, what would happen then? He would probably die. And so he had stood there for almost ten minutes, just watching the cars go by underneath him. Then again, he thought, who would miss me if I jumped and died? His parents wouldn't. To them it would just be a stranger who died. Heck , his current foster parents had probably lost more than a few kids to bridge jumping. They wouldn't be affected. Really, he had nothing to lose here and everything to gain. Before he lost the momentum, Cooper Null leapt from the bridge. Flailing as he tumbled down, he heard somebody scream as he shot past the bridge and went further down. Just before he hit the water, there had been the blur of blue light, disorientation and strange feeling before he had been back again, standing on the top of the bridge. Letting out a gasp of relief, he giddily climbed down to the road. After that, he gained more and more control until he could trigger it at will. Then, he learned there was a limit to it.

It had been at school, a sudden pop quiz. He had had the bright idea of simply waiting until the end, getting the answers while marking it and then jumping back. He had sat in his chair as everyone else had answered the questions, then waited calmly while he was given a 0/20. Finally, when he saw the correct answers and committed them to memory, Cooper attempted to jump back.

Nothing happened.

No matter how hard he had tried, it was impossible, like a mental block. It felt like he could push past it, but something told him he shouldn't try. Same as the little whisper that had come into his head when he had first discovered his ability. It wasn't a voice in his head, per se, just a general feeling that cropped up sometimes. Cooper had failed the test, but learned a lesson in the limit of his time jumping.

Only up to a maximum of ten minutes to the dot of reversing, and even that made him feel nauseous. When he jumped back, it would be to the point in space where his body had been at the time. When put into a lethal situation, his semblance would trigger outside of his will and take him back ten minutes. After a jump, he would have to wait until he reached the point in time he had jumped from before he could jump again. Nobody else perceived the time jumps, only him. He could take information learned and apply it to change the future he had seen. And finally, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move forward in time. Those were the rules, as he had gathered.

Cooper had read up on the semblance. There were three times in recorded history of people who had similar temporal powers: One, a man from Mantle who said he could see the future. He went insane after a long period of meditation. Two, a little known wandering prophet who claimed to have travelled back from the future using his semblance. Created a large religion based around his foreknowledge, but was killed by unknown parties while in Vale. And the third, having existed just sixty years ago, was a wolf faunus named Amelia Trentstone. She was the most well documented. Amelia claimed to have a power which allowed her to move backwards in ten minute intervals, and was able to keep all knowledge from her jumps. A power identical to his. Unfortunately, Amelia had been hunted by the Mantle government, anxious to contain what they saw as a dangerous power. She led them on a long and bloody chase, but eventually she was killed in a stand off. When he read that, Cooper knew he could never, ever reveal his semblance. There would always be those who saw him as a threat, or try use the ability for their own gain. History had shown him that.

He would use it sparingly. Never abusing its power, always keeping it hidden.

* * *

 _Present day_

"Yes, Miss Reye. I guess it never really manifested itself"

Onyx shrugged.

"Well it's something to work at while in beacon. I accept your answers as satisfactory, and accept you into beacon academy. Good luck"

Cooper nodded, and left the darkened room. Outside, he saw his fellow signal students looking nervous as they lined up. Smiling, he knew that Onyx would intimidate them much more than she had done him.

He returned to his home. In the weeks leading up to the final assessment and interview, his parents had allowed him back into their house for the first time in a year. Cooper still remembered nothing, and felt nothing for them. Walking in through the door, he was met by his mother.

"Well, how did it go?"

"Good. I was interview by Miss Raye, so at least I felt some familiar ground. She accepted my answers and granted by application to Beacon"

His mother laughed and hugged him tightly.

"Oh, I'm so proud! Tim! Tim, guess who just passed into Beacon!"

His father was in the living room, watching the news. When the two came in, he turned it off and stood up.

"Great, simply great news! Never doubted it, of course, being my son!"

When he came back, his parents had redoubled their efforts to make him feel welcome. Even his father had put up a friendly face. But Cooper remembered a whole year spent without a single visit. They just wanted to play nice now that he was about to leave home. There was no emotional connection here.

"Well, I did have Miss Raye as my interviewer, so that made it a bit easier"

But they were paying his bills, so it couldn't hurt to be friendly.

"Nonsense! I'm sure you made it in of your own accord. Now come, your mother's made you a real feast to celebrate… "

After easting as much as would be considered polite, he helped his mother clear the plates. It had become his chore to wash them each night, and he would want to do them quickly so he could get an early start on packing.

"Wait, Cooper. Harriet, would you mind doing them tonight? Me and Cooper need to have a talk, man to man, before he leaves in three days"

His mother nodded.

"Oh, of course, it's no bother. Go Cooper, use the lounge"

His father stepped into the large room and took a seat on the large armchair that he used every day without fail to catch the morning and evening news reports. Cooper had never understood the man's obsession with keeping up on on current events. He himself set down on the leather couch opposite. There was a tense silence for a minute, before his father spoke.

"Cooper, I suppose we don't have the typical father-son dynamic. For me, I lost the boy I knew in the accident, the boy who I loved, and you came back feeling nothing for us."

Cooper sighed. So it would be a lecture. His father continued.

"But to say it is your own fault is by no means true. You lost everything in an event you had no control over, and came back to parents who expected nothing to have changed. People who expected you to love them. For that, I am sorry"

Cooper looked up. He waited for the other shoe to drop.

"And then we sent you away, hoping to forget until the boy we knew returned. Which, as I see now, will never happen.

Seeing his shocked expression, he nodded.

"Yes, yes. Your mother keeps on hoping, keeps on believing your memories will return. But I know for sure now. Cooper Harris vanished that day in the accident. And Cooper Null became my son"

Cooper nodded. It was the truth he had wanted them to see for years. He had, in the course of one and a half years, regained none of his memories before the attack. No strange dreams, no indistinct flashes, nothing the doctors had assured him would happen.

"But I can say with certainty that even as Cooper Null, I am still proud of you as my son"

Cooper looked at his father dead on.

"You graduated with exemplary marks. In all the years you spent in other homes, you received not a single complaint. And now, you are moving into your own life". His father stood and held out his hand.

"You leave this house as your own man. A man I respect, and still as my son. I was hoping… before you left… you might see me as your father"

Cooper looked at the hand of his father, weathered and tough from decades of experience as a hunter, with a scar from an unknown battle on the thumb. Here was a man trying to make amends for a year of silence. Cooper stood, clasped his father's hand and shock it firmly.

"I think I can do that… Dad"

"Oh yes, good, good…"

For a moment, Cooper could swear he saw a glistening in the corners of his father's eyes, but then he blinked and it was gone.

"Well then, I suppose we should return. I have it on fairly good faith your mother still has something extra for us in the fridge"

Cooper nodded, and followed his father back into the dining room. This one conversation couldn't fix the year and a half of resentment Cooper had inside of him, but it was a start. The first, honest declaration of appreciation that Cooper Null could remember. This man… no, his father… whatever he was to Cooper now. At the very least, he was no longer a stranger.


	3. Chapter 3: Amethyst

"I told you, asshole. Call me Amy!"

The deal had gone so far south the temperature had dropped. Guns were being clutched on both sides of the standoff. Amy could see a sniper up on the top of a gantry of the warehouse they were in. A huge, heavyset man was reaching for a large briefcase, which she could only assume had a weapon in it. If they lost the goods, Junior was going to be pissed.

Amethyst Xiong readied her axe. If her hunch was right, the Fargo's had never meant to honour the deal, and were looking for an excuse to pick a fight.

"Now now, Amethyst. It's very simple, don't let your temper get away on you. We just need better product. These crystals recently… eh, they're just not up to standard, you know?"

"Shut up. They're the same stuff we've been handing off to you for years. And you never complained before now"

She reached to her back and detached her round buckler shield.

"I reckon this is your new boss, isn't it? Adrian whatshisname? When we kick your asses outta here, let him know he's made a mistake"

"Now now, Amethyst. That sounds dangerously like a declaration of something we would both like to avoid. Before things go any further, how about we all step down a notch?"

Amethyst hadn't gotten to be one of the right hand women of Junior by being his daughter, as many assumed. In fact, for the majority of her time as an employee, both she and him had gone on completely unaware of their connection. It was only after her promotion and blood sample taken after an accident that he had realised one of the many fleeting girlfriends had borne his child. She had started at the bottom of a cut throat orgainisation, and if there was one thing she had learned it was to go with her instinct and never back down. She wasn't about to start now.

"No. Our deal is we give you dust crystals and you give us Lien. If that deal is done, you should have told us before we smuggled it out of the mines and lugged it here"

She switched her axe to its sawn off shotgun form and she pointed it at the big man.

"Now where the hell is the aformentioned Lien?"

Amy noted her own men were drawing their weapons. The usual mix of cheap assault rifles and flashy Katanas. If she had to guess, only about half of the crew would know how to use them. She was regretting not bringing the Malachite siblings. They knew how to handle themselves in a fight.

"Heh. You know, Adrian said that if it was you who turned up there'd be no compromise. Guess we do this in plan B"

She caught the subtle nod he gave to the sniper, and decided to shoot first. Bringing her shotgun to draw, Amethyst pulled the trigger and fired off a specially modifed that round. In the modern days of dust element rounds, few people remembered the old methods where pellets of metal were fired. Low power fire dust, packed into a shell with small metal pellets. Result, a spray of iron death sent straight at her rather large target. Clearly not expecting her shot, the 'negotiator' was thrown backwards, his aura barely absorbing the blow. Those shots were expensive as hell, but they shredded barriers like a glutton to chocolate.

In the momentary confusion that followed, Amy ducked behind a crate. Following her lead, her men did the same. Some were better than others at picking a spot, however, and Any noticed with dismay that these of her men were taken out with three cracks from the sniper. But she couldn't stop now. Never back down, never stop moving. For every one of hers, she would take three of theirs. The sniper was the biggest threat on the field. As long as he was there, the enemy held advantage. But any attempt to get close would lead to death. They could rush him, but not without significant loss of life. Thankfully, Amethyst held a trump card.

Swinging her arm in and arc, she hurled the shield out from her cover. Of course the enemy shot at it, but the bullets simply bounced off and didn't affect it. Right on target, the shield landed on the same gantry the sniper was hiding.

"Ha! Little wonder your men are such terrible shots if that is how their leaders aim"

"Oh, I got it right where I needed it, asshole!"

Twisting the bracelet on her arm, the light on it switched from red to green. Her shield was no simple hunk of metal. Within it was a complex military analyst computer, which had… fallen off the back of a truck. It also had an inbuilt light machine gun. From the bottom of the shield three legs telescoped out and stood the shield up on a tripod. From the side of the shield, the muzzle of the internal gun popped out. Rotating on the tripod, the shield turned and faced the sniper, who looked up from his scope all too late. The gun opened fire with a stream of conventional rounds, which hit his aura like a thousand punches. He tried to run, but one disadvantage of the gantry was that there was nowhere to run. Aura depleted in seconds, and then the bullets hit him with no obstructions. Dead before he hit the ground.

From its new elevevated position, the internal computer scaned the area and made a decision. It opened fire on the enemy below. Suddenly, it was them who were ducking cover while her own men stood up and began to systematically kill anyone outside of cover. Amy herself, well, she prefered to get a bit more up close and personal.

"All mele combatants, with me!"

Not waiting to see who was following, she lept over the crate and switched her weapon back to the dual bladed handaxe. Sprinting quickly and keeping low, Amy tackled the first man she saw. Knocking him to the ground, she drove her boot into his chest, smashing the wind out of him and making him drop his weapon out of reflex. An armature mistake. This was probably his first job. Behind the balaclava he was wearing, he probably wasn't much older than her. In a moment of weakness, she hesitated. Then she remembered the three men dead, and brought her axe down. Never back down. The kid had no Aura to block it. At least it was clean, to the head. Ripping her axe free, she jumped behind a crate as one of the enemies noticed her and opened fire with his heavy assault rifle.

They were recovering from the stock, finding spots her shield turrent couldn't hit them. Drawing the fight out, trying to make it last until the police arived and both sides were forced to flee. Amy knew all the tricks. She would have to finish this quick. Upset the balance. Motioning to those at the front line with her, who had to be at least moderately competent to have survived, she yelled out.

"Covering fire! Now!"

Promptly following her order, her men let loose with a barrage of various ammo kinds. Some of it hit, some of it didn't. Point was, it had her enemy hunkerer down in cover. Now was the time to strike.

Amy kicked off from the ground onto her crate, and then made a running leap towards the enemy cover. A few stray bullets from her men pinned off her Aura, but nothing too substantial. Landing cleanly on top of a crate some Fargo grunts were hiding behind, she looked down to see comical looks of surprise on their faces. Not giving them a chance to react, she threw herself down with a slash, cutting one man across the neck. Kneeing the second in the groin, she pressed herself against the crate to avoid a sword swipe, and brought her axe in an upward swing into the jaw of the man who had tried to stab her. Wrenching it free, she smashed the handle of the axe on the man she had kneed, sending him onto the floor in pain. Swaping to sawn off mode, the hilt of the axe twisted down, a trigger extended and the two sides of the axehead folded away to show the dual barrels of the shotgun. Pulling the trigger, the vulnerable man was dead before he heard the bang. Smoothly turning and ejecting the spent shell, she fired again at a man who had come into view. Seems the men on this side were just as rookie as her own men.

Later, she would find it highly ironic this was the moment that she was rendered unconcious by a briefcase.

Aura was a conscious barrier, and the attack had caught her totally off guard. She went down hard, and lapsed into unconsciousness. The negotiator laughed and drew a pistol from inside his neatly pressed suit. Lining up the shot, he would have fired if one of Amy's pesky men hadn't noticed their leader in danger and opened fire with his assault rifle. Immediately dropping behind cover to avoid the shots, he could hear the wail of sirens getting closer. It was long since time to bail.

"Browyn! Do you have the case?" he yelled.

"Yeah. We should probably run now, Linton"

Linton nodded and sprinted over to where his partner in crime was waiting, package in hand. All in all, despite heavy losses, the had just swindled Junior's crew out of several tens of thousands worth of high end dust crystals. He hadn't managed to kill Amethyst, but it was no matter. The police would pick her up, and then she'd be stuck with the blame for everything. All in all, it had actually gone down fairly well. Ducking into the armoured jeep that was their getaway vechile, Linton dissapeared into the night.

* * *

"Miss Xiong! Wake up! Damn it, somebody help me carry her. Hey! Don't run away, coward!"

Amy groaned. It was too loud. Sitting up, she held a finger to the lips of whoever was making all the racket. Her head ached. It was funny, because she couldn't remember drinking.

The wail of sirens brought her back to reality. Snapping her eyes open, Amy jumped up. There was a man wearing the typical black with red highlights suit, but he was carrying a large rifle in his hands.

"Don't remember having hardware like that as standard issue"

The man looked at the sniper rifle in his hands.

"Looted it from the enemy sniper. He wouldn't need it"

He stood up too.

"The name's Tristian. Police have the place mostly surrounded, but if we move fast we can still escape to a getaway vechile."

She nodded.

"Lead the way. You know, you didn't have to wait for me. Loyalty doesn't go unrewarded in this organisation"

"I'll be sure to bring up hazard pay once we're clear of the building"

Holding out her gauntleted hand, the high powered magnet in it pulled the shield back to her. Replacing it on its holder on her back, she rushed after Tristian.

They didn't stop running until they were several blocks from the warehouse. Amy casually checked to see if anyone was watching, before disappearing into an alley with Tristian doing the same. Pulling the keys from her jeans she unlocked the car and got in the passenger side.

"What? The left hand woman of Junior can't even drive?"

"Shut up and take the wheel"

Showing his experience, Tristan started the car (An intentionally ordinary looking grey van) and smoothly pulled out onto the road.

"Back to the club, I assume?"

"Hell no. I'm not going back to Dad empty handed"

Pulling out her scroll, Amethyst pulled open the hacking app. Like she said, she knew all the tricks. Like installing tiny tracking chips into all the transport bags. Just in case.

"They're on Leo Drive"

"We won't be able to catch up in this old people mover, I'm afraid"

"There's no need. They're taking a long route to try shake us and the cops, but they really want to head down Sanguine Crecent to their hideout. So we intercept at the rail crossing here"

She indicated to the map on her scroll.

"Get there quick as possible"

"Got it"

The car accelerated, and Tristan put his knowledge of the streets to use, ducking into every alleyway and avoiding every policeman. Amy could tell he wasn't the usual disposable grunt her dad liked to employ.

"So, Tristian. How long have you been working for Junior?"

"Well, Miss Amethyst- "

"Please, I hate that name. Just call me Amy"

"Right then. Well, I've been working for your Dad ever since I was seventeen. So, I'd say about twelve odd years now? Sounds about right"

Amy made a low whistle. To last so long in the buissnes of organised crime was a rarity.

"And still just a grunt? Never tried to go for anything bigger?"

"It's by staying firmly unpromoted all this time that I've lived so long. No offence to you, but we tend to go through our leaders pretty fast"

He pulled a fight turn into a deserted street of only half of its street lights working.

"And as you can see, being on the ground for a decade means you pick up a few skills"

"But not an orignal dress sense, aparently"

"Hey!"

"What? We don't force you guys to all dress the same. You just all choose to wear the same suit and and silly tinted sunglasses"

He took off the sunglasses, reveling blue eyes to match his dirty blonde hair.

"There. Happy now?"

"Ew, no, put them back on. The bags under your eyes make you look real old"

Tristan gave a good natured laugh and put the familiar glasses back on. Finally reaching their destination, he pulled over onto the side of the road.

"So then, youngling, how are we going to stop a heavily armoured, fast moving jeep driven by men who have no fear?"

"Oh, we won't be stopping it. I'll be stopping it. You can stay in the car and provide fire support with your newly aquired gun"

Nodding strangely, Tristan pulled the long rifle from where he had cast it on the back seat and set it up, poking it out the window. Amy stepped out of the car, and put her axe into the holster at her belt. Taking off her fur lined jacket, she stood in the chilly night in the middle of the road and waited for a car full of negotiators to try and run her down. She didn't have long to wait.

In the distance, she heard the rumble of an engine. Breathing in deeply, she held out her arms, almost like she was trying to push something. Tristan watched with a mixture of stock and hilarity. This wasn't her actual plan, right? However, the car got closer and Amy didn't move. Was the idiot actually going to try stop the car with her bare hands? The car shot over the railway crossing, not seeing her in the half light of the street.

"Look out-"

Mere seconds before the car would hit Amy, a change washed over her body. Tristian watched in awe as her clenched fists became coated in a purple gemstone, hardening them. The change spread down her arms, and then presumably continued to take place underneath her shirt. It spread up her neck, and her face became crystalised, like a purple ice statue. Amethyst, Tristan realized. Even her normally black hair changed, becoming thin strips of purple gem. The car saw her, all to late.

It hit her full on. But rather than throwing her backwards, it was the car that got thrown. Tristan watched as the car crumpled in on the front, tilting onto its nose. Amy grabbed it with her hardened hands and pulled up, the car flipping over her and landing in its top. Tristan watched slack jawed as she turned, and slowly reverted back to her normal pale skin. Tristan laughed.

"I can see where the name comes from!"

"Shut up and help me finish this"

Opening the vans door, Tristan pulled the rifle to bear and pointed it at the upturned car. Amy switched to shotgun form for her axe and pointed it at one of the windows.

BLAM!

"Shoot the windows. I want them dead"

Nodding, Tristian lined up a shot with his newfound gun and pulled the trigger. The kick was enormous, but his shot rang true and there was a blood splatter on the window. Pulling back the pin and ejecting the shell, he lined up the next shot on the passenger seat.

CRASH!

The passenger door was thrown entirely off it's hinge and slammed into Tristan, throwing him onto his back. With a roar, Linton burst out of the car, breifcase in hand. Amy reacted, firing a shot straight at the man but he moved faster than she though possible, blocking the buckshot with his breifcase. The shots fell to the road, not even denting it. Tristan shoved the door off him and picked up his rifle, but Linton moved too quick for him and savagely kicked it away, before bringing his breifcase down.

Tristan brought up his hand and caught the briefcase with the aid of his aura, and then tried to push it away. He couldn't. The man had to be inhumanly strong, pushing the case down untill he was pressing Tristan into the ground with it. Laughing, Linton reached with his other hand and undid the clasps on the case.

It sprang open immediately, and from within came hundreds of tiny, twisting tentacles. Some were simply wire with a current passed through them, making them twitch randomly, while some were segmented tubes that reached out with cutting implements at their end. Still others were spindly claws, reaching and grabbing at anything they could. A few of them reached out and pressed at Linton, his Aura barely holding it back.

With a shout, Amy vaulted the car and landed on Linton's back, using the axe to try out him in a chokehold. The man stood up, held his open briefcase in the air, and the electrical cables grabbed onto her and sent a heavy voltage through her system. Letting go , she fell back twitching and Linton followed up by pressing his open case to her chest. The tube arms wrapped around her, buzzblades and sharp blades dragging against her Aura. The electricity coursed through her system, making her scream in pain. She couldn't move, her arms held at her side. Lifting her into the air with his breifcase, Linton laughed again.

"I was a bit dissapointed I couldn't finish you off earlier. Now I get my wish!"

With a sharp crack, Amethyst's barrier broke and the blades rushed towards her skin. With her last rational thought, Amy hardened her body again. A rush of purple gemstone went over her body, and she was protected. The sharp blades couldn't penetrate her new armour, and suddenly the electricity wasn't hurting her. Kicking out with her one free leg again and again, Linton watched in amusement as her attack had no effect.

"You know, while it's amusing to watch you try, all this is doing is delaying the inevitable"

Amy winced as one of the blades chipped through her armour and cut her in the shoulder. Blood leaked out. Desperately, she tried to move out of the grip, but the thin wires and snaking appendages had her firmly held. She cried out in pain when one of the electric wires came into contact with her bare skin.

"But it's over now. I think I'll leave your corpse here for Junior to find. Ought to send a good message-"

BLAM!

Tristan had recovered from his battering, and had fired off a shot. It had gone wide of the head where he was aiming, but it hit the arm holding the open briefcase. Linton's low aura levels were punched through by the shot, and he howled in pain, dropping the case.

Landing cleanly on her feet, Amethyst pulled her arm free of the grasping feelers are grabed her axe. Switching it to shotgun, she slammed it into his chest.

"You're right. Leaving a corpse in the street is a good way to send a message"

She pulled the trigger. The buckshot ripped through him, shredding organs and shattering bones. Switching to axe mode, Amy hacked at the mass that was still grasping her until she could pull herself free. The briefcase shut itself, sealing the tentacles away. Looking over, she saw that Linton was still alive, gasping as air wouldn't come into his ruined lungs. Still in her armour, she put a foot down on head head and applied pressure. He groaned in pain.

"Shouldn't have fucked with us. We're going after your boss next, so…"

She raised the axe.

"Save him a spot in hell!"

* * *

The drive back to the club was a quiet one. Thankfully, the dust crystals were still in their case and undamaged. Leaving the wreakage of the car for the police to deal with, Amy and Tristan had gotten back into the van. Tristan had a mild concussion from being slammed with the door, but was otherwise okay. Amy had pulled the first aid out out from under the seat and gotten to work on her shoulder wound. She also had several electricity burns, but she decided to wait until she was back at the club before dealing with them. In the end, Tristan broke the silence first.

"So, that could have gone better. Guess I'll be claiming that hazard pay after all"

"Yeah? Well you didn't do a great job of defending me there"

"Hey, who was who just saved your life?"

"I could've done it myself"

"Riiight, because you were doing SUCH a good job at that"

"Yeah yeah, so you were a bit of help"

"So, I'm actually serious about the extra pay"

"How does a promotion sound?"

"I said I was serious"

"So am I. Tristian, you've gone with wasted talent in our organisation. You've demonstrated tonight you have what it takes to work at a higher level. And being closer to the top, well, it has benefits"

"I already told you- being a big shot is a fast track to an early grave"

"We'll I've survived, and I've been at it for awhile"

Tristan shrugged.

"Mabye. But if it's all the same to you, I think and extra thousand wouldn't go amiss here"

"Thousand?! It's a shame you don't want a promotion, because with thay kind of swindling you'd be a top dog!"

"Well, I've always been good at managing finances. Seriously though, I'l be expecting it by the end of the week"

"Sly. Very sly"

They came back to the club only to find it surrounded by policemen. Amy grabbed her axe.

"Nuts"

Slowing down, Tristan pulled into a side alley across from the bar. Cautiously stepping out of the car, Amy approached one of the policemen.

"What's happening here?"

The man turned to face her.

"You work here?"

"I'm Junior's daughter"

"Right. Well, some girl in yellow came and trashed the place, made a real mess of your security and knocked Junior out. Neighbour called us after the gunshots. You might want to get inside, if you work here we have a few questions"

Indicating to Tristan he should stay back, Amy nodded and followed the office inside. Junior was sitting at the bar, ice pack pushed to his head.

"Amethyst. Good movie?"

"Not really. Got a little to violent, but at least it had a happy ending"

Junior nodded an acknowledgement. He understood the subtext.

"Well then, if you're recovered now might you answer us a few questions?" the police officer asked Junior.

"Sure. I could do that for you"

Amethyst had to smile. If there was one thing her father was good at, it was confusing the police away from him.

"So, how about you tell me what happened?"

"Well, it all started when the yellow girl walked in…"

It was supprisingly easy to get the police to go away. After pinning everything on the girl in yellow, Junior pretended not to be able to identify her. Then, it was a simple matter of not pressing charges. Without a case, the Police pulled away. Junior sighed and looked out at the club, shattered glass and tossed tables littering the floor.

"She really did a number on this place"

"What was she even looking for?"

"Some woman. She showed me a photo. I've never seen her before"

"And then she trashed the place?"

"There was some name calling before hand"

"Sounds kinda like how our little trip went"

Junior shifted in his seat.

"Oh really? And what happened there?"

Amy shrugged.

"They backed out of the deal and tried to take our stuff"

"And how did you respond?"

"They should be finding his body right about now"

"Damn it, Amethyst! I told you, we don't want to bring that kind of heat from the cops at us. Especially now"

Amethyst narrowed her eyes.

"Why? What did we get involved in?"

Junior held the ice pack back up to his head.

"There's an employer. They want to hire our men in a series of high profile robberies all over the city"

"Huh. I guess I'll be getting heaps more work then"

"Well… about that"

Amy bristled.

"What?"

"Look, I've been thinking about things. About you and I, and what you do"

"I don't like the way this conversation is going"

"Could you try and listen? I think it might be best if you stop doing regular work for us. Things are about to heat up"

"Are you kidding me? I just killed a man, and you think I can't handle a bit of heat?"

"I know. That's the problem. I've been… concerned about you for awhile. Killing, drugs, violence, these are things most kids your age never have to deal with"

"You were fine with it when you didn't know we were related"

"It's not just you. I'm thinking of scaling back the Malachite's as well"

"Dad, I'm eighteen. This is when most people my age get a job anyway!"

Junior slammed his fist on the table.

"As your father, I think I have some right to be concerned about your wellbeing!"

"Well you sure as hell wern't concerned when mom died"

Junior went silent, and Amy felt a little had about bringing it up. Never back down, she told herself.

"… Look, Dad. What's it going to take? How old have I gotta be before you see me as able to make my own damn life choices?"

Junior sighed. He reached down into the bag he had at the foot of his stool and pulled out a folder.

"You may think yourself tough, but this new job… it's serious people. Dangerous people. I'd feel safer taking the deal if you wern't in the firing line"

He slid the folder down the bar to her. Picking it up, she read the front.

BEACON HUNTER/HUNTRESS SCHOOL APPLICATION FORM

"Are you being serious right now?"

Junior nodded.

"Go. I have some contacts, old hunter friends who owe me a few favours. You could attend. Get some good experience. When this all blows over in a few years, you come back and I gurantee there's a spot still waiting for you in this bar"

Amy opened the folder and looked inside. Most of it had already been filled out, creating a false past as a private student to a qualified trainer.

"Won't this fall right through under serious checking?"

"Not really. I know the trainer you're claiming to have trained under, he can vouch for you. And, well, beacon applications are pretty easy to falsify"

Amy opened the prospectus. Staged shots of teenagers laughing, eating, sitting in lectures. The sight of that much fake cheerfulness almost put her off right there.

"Really? I mean… do I really have to do this?"

Junior nodded.

"Hey, it's good for long term employment too. People pay big figures to get a huntress on their side"

Amy had to agree on that. Hunters that were willing to hire themelves out to less savoury enterprises were few and car between. The one that she had met was charging a ridiculous rate, but he had been worth it. Heck, she was already pretty badass now. Imagine what she could do with four years of training at the most well known Hunter school in Vale!

"You know what? Sure. I'm in"

"Good, because you leave in two days"

"What! I though there was some kind of interview"

"Nah. I know a hunter, Preston, me and him go way back. You and him have already had your interview"

Amy nodded sagely.

"Oh yes. So we did. Such an insightful one too"

Junior stood up from the bar.

"I know it kinda sounds like I'm getting rid of you, but please don't take it that way. I'm just trying to keep you safe"

Amy laughed.

"Yeah, well go to the corner of Sanguine Crecent and see how much protecting I need"

Grabbing the folder, she walked out of the bar.

* * *

Tristan was waiting outside for her.

"So then, how did it go?"

Amy held up the folder.

"Junior was none to pleased about it all. Apparently, we got some new employers who would prefer the police stay as far away as possible"

"Ah. I take it this has something to do with your application to higher education?"

"Well dear old Dad seems to think it might get too dangerous for little precious, so I'm going off to Beacon for four years"

"Ouch"

"Eh, it's not so bad. Might get some good new skills while I'm there"

"No, I mean everyone there is crazy"

"And how would you know?"

"I went to Beacon for a few semesters"

"No shit? How the heck did you end up here?"

"Like I said. It was too crazy, I couldn't hack it. Left after my money ran out, and had to find another job"

"Well aren't you full of suprises"

Tristan chuckled and climbed into the car.

"Care for a ride home?"

Amy shook her head.

"Nah, I'm good. Live right around the corner from here"

"Alright then. See in a few years, Miss Amethyst"

Amy spun around as Tristian pulled out of his park.

"Hey! I told you, didn't I? My name is Amy!"

Tristan laughed again and waved out of the window before driving off. Shivering in the evening chill, she drew her coat tighter around herself. Walking away from the trashed bar, Amethyst Xiong hoped that Beacon would at least he a little warmer.


End file.
